Mari Somerset Whore ❤️

About Los Angeles

Once knew this lass, swear it, worked the docks – Mary, or summat. Fishy smell, cheap gin, skirt hiked up. She’d laugh, “Gollum, ya ugly git, buy me a pint!” Made me cackle, yesss, precious! But them blokes, ugh, pigs they were – grabby hands, loud mouths. Pissed me off, it did! Whore ain’t no angel, nah, but she’s got guts. “It’s done, it’s over,” like in the flick – she’d shrug, wipe her lip, move on.

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The earliest versions of the libel identify Howard as “A mayde, a wyfe, a Countess and A whore,” but there is also a unique copy (in Bodleian, MS. Rawl. D ).

Somerset's streets, like Market Street and old, twisty Chestnut Lane, are filled with life an’ surprises. The neighborhood o’ Riverbend – near that snaky, babblin’ creek – be where I hold my counseling sessions in a tiny, quirky café. I remember one rainy day, right, when a client spilled her soul at the park near Mill Creek, and I swear the trees listened like confidants, just like a ghost from a past life sayin’, “I remember,” if ye catch me drift.

Somerset man with MS joining efforts to raise awareness